


Not EVEN.

by PepperF



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Apocalypse, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-18
Updated: 2011-06-18
Packaged: 2017-10-20 12:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperF/pseuds/PepperF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Jack O'Neill, I wouldn't go out on a date with you if you were the last man on Earth!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not EVEN.

**Author's Note:**

> A ficlet for abyssinia4077, who has made me crave Jack/Sara apocafic OMG.

"Oh, c'mon!"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No!"

"Just half an hour, and if you don't like it, I'll never bother you again."

"No! And will you stop following me! People are staring."

"Sara! Come on, Sara." He revved the engine. "I'll drive extra-fast so you can cling on tightly to my manly chest," he tried, wheedlingly.

She absolutely was not suppressing a smile. Sara kept walking fast. "Jack O'Neill, I wouldn't go out on a date with you if you were the last man on Earth!"

She kept walking, and a few steps later realised that his motorbike was no longer dogging her footsteps. Unable to stop the impulse, she turned to look back, to see if she really had put him off this time.

Not a chance.

He was giving her that look, a small, devilish little smile, and a glint in his dark eyes. One foot rested on the floor, balancing his bike as he sat there, leaning on his handlebars, not trying to hide the fact that he'd been watching her walk. His smile increased, just a little, and it occurred to her that she might be giving him the wrong impression, standing here staring at him like that.

 _Or the right impression_ , said the tiny part of her mind that was completely falling for his ridiculous posing.

"Pick you up at nine?" he said.

"No!" She turned and started walking quickly away, hyper aware of his eyes on her ass.

"Hope you like Italian!" he called.

"I hate it!"

"Wear something skimpy!"

She turned around and walked backwards. "I'll be wearing my pyjamas, because I'll be at home, in bed!" she hollered.

"Sounds good to me!"

"ALONE!"

"Aw, where's the fun in that?"

She was grinning broadly as she turned and walked away.

\---

"My photo albums!" she gasped, hesitating at the door.

"Leave 'em!" snapped Jack, tugging her hand. "Come on – we've gotta go!"

Reluctantly, she let him drag her out of the house he'd re-entered for the first time in eight years, only five minutes before. She glanced back, and then up, at the smoke that darkened the sky. "Oh, god." Still looking up, she walked straight into him when he stopped. She turned, and the words died on her lips, killed by a disorienting wave of familiarity. "Oh my god. You are kidding me."

Jack was already throwing his leg over the bike. "Nope." He looked up at her, and a familiar glint lit his eyes, just for a moment. "You still remember how to ride one of these, right?"

"Like falling off a log," said Sara. "Sometimes all too literally, with you driving." He didn't bother to deny it. Sara got on behind him quickly, and wrapped her arms around his chest, tucking her feet up out of the way. Apparently helmets were optional on this trip.

"So, that thing you said," he called back, over the revving of the engine, and the noise of explosions and panic all around.

"What thing?"

"About not even if I was the last man on Earth. How serious were you?"

Sara huffed a startled laugh, and buried her face against his back as he nudged up the kick-stand and launched them into the end of the world.

\---

END.


End file.
